<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Stitches by SweetButtercups</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281876">Stitches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetButtercups/pseuds/SweetButtercups'>SweetButtercups</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Oneshot, Rick silently pining for Stan, Short</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:55:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetButtercups/pseuds/SweetButtercups</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan has to clean up another one of Rick's messes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stan Pines/Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stitches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“God fucking dammit Sanchez” Stan heaved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He was carrying Rick in his arms, running as fast as he humanly could back to the motel. “I fucking knew that shit was a bust and I let us go through with it anyways. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He had his hand on Rick’s bleeding stomach, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C-c-calm down, Lee, it’s not a big deal,” Rick whispered. He had a sedated look on his face and it was freaking Stan out. “Rick are you an idiot!? You have a bullet in your goddamn stomach!” He kicked the motel door open with his foot and slammed the door shut. Stan quickly placed him down and started digging around for anything to stitch him up. “I’m Rick motherfuckin’ SANCHEZ! I can’t die and I don’t die.” Stan ignored him, too focused on fixing Rick’s wound. He carefully removed the bullet with a pair of tweezers. “I-I’ve avoided death more times than anyone in the history of the god damn multiv- FUCK!” Stan prodded him with a needle. “I couldn’t find anything to numb the pain so you’re going to have to power through it, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hand me my flask.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rick took a swig while Stan began to stitch the wound up. He gazed upon his face. Concentrated, yet visibly worried. His hands were steady, but he could hear the anxious thumping of his foot.  Pines was a sight for sore eyes even when he was distressed. Rick grunted with each stitch made. This hurt like a motherfucker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I’m almost done, just let me apply alcohol” His voice was really shaky. Rick’s never seen Stan this worried before, especially over him. He’s even seen him before a phone call with his brother. This is new and he’s not sure how to deal with it. Rick opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it. “I’m going to need you to sit up for a second.” Without hesitation, Stan put his hand on Rick’s back to help him up and began wrapping gauze around his wound. “Where did you learn to clean up a bullet wound so well?” Rick winced. “A lot of boxing matches turned sour after their shows. Had to fix them up a shit ton of times, never stood out of trouble. Once I got wrapped up in the cartel shit I became their designated nurse after they found out I knew how to stitch wounds up. Got a lot of practice in with that.” He softly patted the patched up wound and proceeded to fall onto the bed next to Rick.  He ran his hands across his face and into his hair, finally having time to process the entire situation. They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity until Stan broke the silence with a loud groan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Goddammit, Rick you’re an idiot y’know that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Shit, if I hadn’t saved your ass you probably would’ve bled out and died by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I uh. Kind of fucked up didn’t I.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucked up?! You’ve passed fucking up territory, Sanchez! I thought I lost you!” Stan wiped a tear from his face that he’ll later pass off as sweat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rick’s heart skipped a beat. Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now was not the time to get sappy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rick placed his hand on his neck awkwardly. “...T-Thank you. For uh. Patching me up.” He wasn’t good at the whole politeness thing. Stan sat up and let out a soft sigh. He looked down at him with the most adoring eyes Rick’s ever seen. “You’re welcome.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I barely ever write, but I had to express my love for this pairing. It is forever undying. Thank you for reading</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>